


I'm a Professional

by Cordaroy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Awkward Castiel (Supernatural), Awkward Flirting, Chance Meetings, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21811033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cordaroy/pseuds/Cordaroy
Summary: Cass’s car is in terrible shape and he knows it. He doesn't have heat, his check engine light is on, and a popping noise coming from under his hood. He found himself pulling into Bobby’s Repair Shop, and hitting it off with someone who has emeralds where his eyes should be.They flirted briefly, and Cass, despite his awkward nature, kept it together well enough. Except for the fact that he didn't have the forethought to give this handsome stranger his phone number!Will they ever meet again? Will Cass Car stop making that scary noise? Read to find out!AKA- bobby is tired, Dean is BI, and Cass gets distracted by Dean's pretty eyes.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	1. Booby's Repair Shop

The old 78 Lincoln Continental Clattered and Clanged down an old side street. Castiel bopped his head to generic grunge to drown out the sounds of his old, beat-up car while he made his way to the shop. The music quieted as his navigation system spoke up, “turn right in forty feet.” Cass swerved into the turn, “jeez,” he breathed, not sure how much more his old car could take.  
The air was crisp and cold. Cass wished now more than ever his old car had heat. He drove down the old winding streets, fiery red leaves hitting the black asphalt below. He was relieved when he pulled into Bobby’s Repair Shop. Bobby’s was a tall, brick grey building covered in ridges and chipped grey paint. It looked nearly abandoned, tho clean and empty. Castiel wouldn't have known anyone had been there in years if it weren’t for the glowing open sign in front of the huge, closed garage doors, its soft neon stuck out against all the pale, washed grey tones.  
Castiel pulled up in front of the rundown repair shop. He steeled himself with a shuddering breath, hands on the wheel. He was about to get out of his old brown car when his phone chimed. He sighed, opening a message from his coworker, Anna.  
“You in today?” the message read.  
“Coming in late,” Castiel began to type, “hold down the fort for a while.”  
“:(“ Castiel rolled his eyes.  
“You’ll live, it's a Tuesday afternoon.” he didn't bother waiting for another message. He swung his door open, and waltzed into Bobby’s, ducking under a cracked garage door. The room was huge, the size of a warehouse, with towering pillars of blue metal stretching from the ground to the ceiling going down the length of the room in rows with cars sprinkled in between. The room was nearly silent, save for the soft click of a wrench echoing through the gloomy room.  
Castiel stayed still for a moment, thinking this might be a mistake. His car wasn't THAT bad. He shook that thought away and cleared his throat. Instantly, the noise stopped. The air was still for a moment, and Castiel felt as though he were in a photo, a moment caught in time, as the air caught in his throat. He was scared to make a sound.  
Then, there was a rolling noise, and a man popped up between the cars. He looked like he was out of place, as though this was Castiel's home and he was an intruder. His chestnut hair was mused, and he was squinting one eye, oil streaking his cheek. Castiel made note that oil in the eye seemed like something to be a bit more proactive about. The man looked like a hobo.  
For a moment, they stared at each other. “Uh,” the man snatched a towel Castiel assumed was white once-upon-a-time and scrubbed it down his face, “hey.”  
“Hello,” Castiel rumbled. A soft blush roused on the man's cheeks, Castiel thought maybe he rubbed that towel a little too hard.  
“What can I do for ya?” the man asked.  
“My car,” Castiel started, brows furrowing into a straight line, “is…”  
The man laughed, “oh boy, that bad?” he was next to Castiel before he could get his bearings, flashing a winning smile. “Lemme take a look at her.” 

The man was on Castiel's car like an artist to canvas, with a passion Castiel couldn't dream of matching. He stroked his hand's downpipes and wires, half his body under the hood. “So…” Castiel prompted.  
“She could use some TLC,” the man started, “but she isn't a lost cause, she could be a beauty.”  
“Wonderful.” Castiel shifted from one foot to the other. “So, are you Bobby?”  
The man looked at Castiel like he grew a second head, and then his eyes flashed to the sign behind him, “Bobby’s Repair Shop” and he nearly broke his own ribs laughing. “No, I'm not that old.” he wiped a tear from his eye. “My name’s Dean.”  
For the first time since he arrived, Cass found himself truly looking at the man in front of him, Dean. He was stunning, eyes like candied apples. His cheeks were spotted with freckles under all that oil. His straight nose was still dabbed with a bit of oil, and his pouty lips were pulled into a soft smile.  
He noted that Dean was quite pretty. “I'm Castiel.”  
Dean's brows raised, “Castiel?” Cass nodded. “Alright Cass, let's get this baby tuned up,” Cass was taken aback by the sudden nickname, but Dean was already facing the car, “it’ll be done by the end of the day.”  
They discussed what was wrong with the car, and how exactly Dean was going to fix it, stealing glances at each other all the while.  
“So,” Cass hovered, “how long have you worked here?”  
Dean looked skeptical, not lifting his eyes from under the hood. For a second, Cass wants sure if he even heard him, “since I was a kid, I started here at fifteen.”  
“That's a lot of experience under your belt,” Cass nodded to himself.  
“Heh, yeah. I'm kind of a professional,” Dean waved some tool that Cass had never seen at him, then went back into the hood, “Bobby’s kinda like my uncle. He had me here to keep me occupied.”  
“That was very kind of him,” Cass said in earnest.  
Dean nodded, “he’s a kind man.” 

Cass wandered across the street, not wanting to hover over Dean’s shoulder any longer, and sat down on a park bench. A book in his hand and the sun to light his pages, and he was all set for the next four hours of waiting.  
Dean chipped away at his many projects. Running a diagnostic on the engine, changing the AC unit, he knocked one thing after another off his list, an old boombox in the corner blasting ACDC while he worked. Though he tried to focus, he couldn't help picture those stunning blue eyes. Castiel, what an odd name. It was distracting, how pretty he was. Not that there was much he could do about the blasted flutter in his gut right now. Did the guy really have to come in while he was coated in oil, looking like an idiot?  
Dean straightened himself up and checked himself in the side mirror of the car, old AC system dangling from his hand. Focus, Dean! He chided himself, you're a professional!  
In the blink of an eye, Dean was done with the car, and Cass with his book. Cass wandered back into the shop just in time to see Dean place the keys on the hood of his car, and take a step back to admire his own work. Cass lurked silently in the corner, until Dean pumped his fist in the air in a sudden show of victory, startling a laugh from Cass.  
Dean spun around, wide eyes falling on Cass. An embarrassed hand came up to rub the back of his neck, “she's done, take a look at her!”  
“You seem proud,” Cass mused, coming closer to his car. Did it look shinier?  
“I am! Some of my best work. A beautiful car for a beautiful man.”  
Cass raised his head to look at Dean, mid-step, who was standing just beside him. Dean seemed just as shocked as Cass was, as though they were both hearing his blatant flirtation for the first time. Cass’s musings were cut short as he abruptly realized that he was, in fact, about to faceplant. Dean had distracted him mid-step, and there are a lot of wires in this shop. One just happened to be under Cass’s feet.  
Cass’s skull did not hit the pavement, but instead landed right in Dean’s broad chest. Cass wanted to die. He wanted to rip the pavement up from the floor, with his bare hands, boar a hole in the ground, and bury himself alive under Bobby’s Repair Shop.  
“Wow,” Dean laughed, “careful, wouldn't want you to mess up that face falling for me.”  
Wow, Cass thought to himself, springing up. Is he clever or impulsively dumb? Maybe both.  
Cass wished his skin weren't so translucently pale as he felt the flaming heat of his cheeks. He frantically tried to think of something to say, “er, thanks.” ever the wordsmith, Cass.  
Dean chuckled, watching as Cass’s eyebrows got closer and closer together. Really laying it on thick, huh buddy? Why don't you order the U-Haul now? Don't be creepy, don't be creepy. “So, can I-”  
“Thanks for the repairs, she looks great.” Cass interrupted, grabbing the keys off the roof of the car, stiff as a board, “I should get out of your hair, it looks like you have lots of work to accomplish.”  
Dean nodded, “I mean, it's no bother…”  
Cass steeled himself with a breath, slipping himself into his car. He slid his keys into the ignition, listing to his car smoothly roar to life, and sent a nervous smile up to dean, lowering the window. “Thank you for fixing my car, I really appreciate the work.”  
Dean smiled back at him, “I’m a professional.”  
They held heated eye contact for a beat too many, and then Dean flickered his eyes away.  
“I'll see you,” Cass said, trying to sound confident.  
“See you around,” Dean waved him off.  
Cass pulled out of an open garage door, and began pulling out of the lot, unable to hear Dean called after him, “wait, what's your number?!”


	2. Novak's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel was walking on sunshine when he went into his coffee shop after meeting the handsome car repair man named Dean. That is, until he realized that neither him not Dean had any way of getting in contact with the other. Until Bobby sorts out the whole mess like the king he is.

Cass smiled too himself proudly. 'I flirted with a cute guy,' he thought, pulling into the parking lot at his shop, 'awesome.'  
There was a spring in his step as he walked through the storefront doors at his cafe. He waltzed behind the wooden counter, the smell of fresh pastries and brewed coffee wafted into his nose. The moss green walls soothed him.  
“Hey there boss,” Anna chirped, ginger hair pinned down by her hat, “lookin cheary.”  
Cass signed, “I met a boy.”  
Anna gasped, and the two immediately began chatting loudly about the mysterious green eyed boy. They laughed and moved around the front behind the counter. Cass told the story to an eager Anna, and by the end they each had tears in their eyes.  
“He said what?” Anna squaked.  
“I know! I know!,” Cass wanted to clutch his side, but he had mugs in his hands, “It was way smoother in person.”  
“Doubt,” Anna wiped her eye with one arm, and gave coffee to a customer with the other, “you skipped work to flirt with pretty repair men.”  
Cass feigned offence, “I would never!”  
“A horrible example boss,” she sarcastically chided, “Did you get his number?”  
“His what now?”  
“His number,” Anna looked at him, “snapchat, instagram, email, myspace? You did get some contact information.”  
Cass felt the overwhelming urge to shut his head in the walkin freezer door.  
“Oh my god,” Anna laughed, “no.”  
“I'm such an idiot.”  
“You can go back.”  
“That would be weird!”  
“Crash your car?” Castiel shot her a bitter look, and Anna put her hands up “I’m just throwing out suggestions! I'm not the one who forgot to get the pretty guys number!”  
Castiel groaned, “what am I gonna do!”

Bobby had a long day. He answered phone calls, talking to idjits. He fixed idjits cars. He mentored idjits in the art of car repair. And now, more than ever, he wanted to have a drink, watch something half-way decent on T.V., and take a nap. But unfortunately, he had one more idjit to help.  
When he walked the length of his garage, he immediately spotted Dean sprawled out on the floor.  
Bobby almost turned around, but instead, with an exasperated sigh he said, “What the hell are you doing?”  
“Sulking.” Dean sighed dramatically, not looking at Bobby, but instead glaring at the ceiling.  
Bobby rolled his eyes so hard he was worried he tore something, “sulking over?”  
Dean has been out as BI for a while, but it always felt weird to bring it up. “I met someone and I didnt get their number, so now im gonna die alone.”  
“Of course. That's a perfectly reasonable jump to make.” Bobby knew he was being sarcastic, and Dean was feeling like a drama queen, so he didn't give Dean the chance to respond. “Come one, get your ass up. You need a cuppa coffee.”  
Dean grumbled, but Bobby got his dramatic behind into the Impala. They drove for a while, and Bobby parked before the center of town. Dean didn't say anything, embarrassingly happy to walk around with Bobby.  
They got out of the car, and began walking around. “We looking for anything in particular?”  
“Good coffee.” Bobby breathed  
Dean nodded, and they walked. They walked right past their usual spot, and putzed around town. They walked by nick nack shops, boutiques and drug stores, and even by a few cafes. One caught Deans eye, and he almost went in, but decided against it in favor of walking around with bobby for a while longer.  
Bobby was chilly and a little annoyed, but he continued to walk around with Dean, chatting mindlessly. Until Dean froze.  
Bobby didn't know it, but dean's eyes had landed on a 78 lincoln continental across the street, which he recognized immediately.  
Bobby looked at him for a moment. He was looking across the street at “Novak’s”, it looked to be a coffee shop.  
“We going in, or are we just gonna stand here and stare at it?”  
“That's him,” Dean said.  
“What in the hell are you talking about?”  
“The guy! From this morning!”  
“The you were too stupid to get a number from?”  
“Yes! wait,” Dean glared at Bobby, and opened his mouth to say something, but Bobby cut him off.  
“Come on, were going in.” Bobby looked both ways.  
“Wait, Bobby! Isn't that weird. I mean, what if he thinks im a stalker?”  
“Then I doubt you'll get his number. Better to try and fail than to stand out in the cold like an idgit. Come on.” Bobby didn't wait, instead walking across the street and into novak’s. Dean hesitated, but was a few steps behind nonetheless. 

Castiel was standing in front of the desk, when an older gentleman walked up to the counter, a trucker hat perched atop his greying hair.  
“What can I-” Castiel cut himself off, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes fell upon the handsome stranger from that morning, Dean, who was standing in front of the counter in his coffee shop. Has christmas come early? Castiel was so caught up in his pretty green eyes he found himself standing there, mouth slightly open, like an idiot. He got himself together. “What can I get for you?”  
“Coffee, cream, no sugar.” Bobby looked over at Dean.  
Dean hesitated, “uh, same.” Dean liked sugar, but his brain was buffering slightly.  
“Who can I put those under?”  
Bobby looked at Dean, but quickly realized one word was all he could manage, “Bobby,” he pointed at himself, then at Dean, “and Dean”  
Cass wanted to say something. Too strike up a conversation. Maybe something like, ‘oh, so this is Bobby?’ or, ‘funny seeing you around.’ but all he said was, “I'll have that right up for you.” 

“Are you stupid?” Bobby tossed his hat to the empty chair next to him, Dean had his head on his folded arms in the chair across from him.  
“Yeah, I think I just might be.” he groaned. “I panicked!”  
“I could tell.” Bobby smiled despite himself.  
“What am I gonna do?”  
“You're gonna go up there,” bobby leaned near Dean, getting Dean's attention, who raised his head slightly to look at Bobby, “and you're gonna give that man your your phone number. You're a catch Dean, that man was looking at you like you were a god damned unicorn.”  
“I don't know, I already look like an idiot.” Dean began to put his head down again.  
“He's not doing much better! He was into you, and he didn't ask for your number,” Dean shrugged at Bobby, and looked over to the counter, where he saw Castiel whispering to a ginger girl. The second he looked over at them, they both looked away.  
Dean groaned loudly, going red in the face, and dropping his head back in his arms.  
Bobby groaned, this damn boy gives him more headaches than anyone else. He was thinking about giving Dean an award.  
“Bobby and Dean?” Castiel called. Dean looked up at him, and felt his heart flutter at the nervous little smile Cass wore.  
“I can't go up their. I'll die. I'll actual drop dead right here in the coffee shop."  
“Shut up ya idjit, come on.” Bobby kicked him under the table.  
“You don't get it. I can't-”  
Bobby cut him off sharply, “if you don't go up to that god damned counter right now I'm gonna get up and pick you up and drag your ass there myself kicking and screaming. Do you want that?”  
Deans face got a shade redder, and his mouth went a bit dry. Dean wasn't sure if Bobby could do what he was saying or not, but the serious tone in his voice wasn't something Dean wanted to challenge. So, Dean stood up on his shaky legs, and slowly walked up to the counter.  
He felt like the walk up there was much longer than it probably was. The way Cass was looking at him made Dean feel exposed, and he was suddenly very unsure of himself. Am I walking weird? God, what if there is still oil on my face? Do I smell weird? His mind wandered. How do I usually walk? I'm I doing it right?  
Dean finally made it up to the counter, “hey there stranger,” he smiled with much more confidence than he was feeling, “funny seeing you again.”  
Cass let out a laugh, “yeah. So that's Bobby?”  
“Yeah that's bobby,” Dean smiled, “the man, the myth, the legend,” he said in the best movie trailer voice he could manage, earning a laugh from Cass.  
“So,” Dean didn't want to ask for the number right away, so he tried to make a little small talk, “how was the ride here, car doing okay?”  
“Yeah it was great!” Cass smiled excitedly. “I had heat, and that popping noise is gone.”  
Dean restrained himself from explaining the noise, that would be boring and rambily. ‘Fuck it, I'm going for it,” he thought, taking in a deep breath. “So, uh,” he started, “I was wondering if I could take you out for coffee some time?”  
Cass paused, and Dean immediately was hit with the realization that they were standing in a coffee shop, which Cass worked at, “I mean, maybe not coffee. But-”  
Cass snorted, “its okay,” smiling softly at Dean, and playing with the end of his apron nervously, “I'd love to go out sometime.”  
“Awesome,” Dean puffed up his chest, “could I get your number?”  
Cass looked at him with an odd expression, and then looked away, cheeks reddening. Dean was about to apologize, when Cass motioned down to the coffee in dean's hand. First, he looked at Bobby’s, like an idiot. Then he looked at his own, and realized there was a phone number on the lid, with Castiel's name signed below it, and a little smiley face in the corner.  
“Oh, uh, nice!” Dean was too elated to be embarrassed by his own poor wording.  
“Yeah,” Cass smiled, “text me! This place is closed on Wednesdays, so maybe we can meet up then?”  
“Sounds awesome! I'll text you!” Dean said, walking away, and right into an empty chair.  
Castiel laughed, and Bobby got up to follow Dean, holding Deans phone, which he left on the table, in one hand. 

Bobby caught up to dean outside, “you made your way out of there like a tornado.”  
“I got his number!” Dean cheered.  
“Good going my boy!” Bobby slapped his shoulder, clasping his hand there.  
“I got his number,” Dean said again, more to himself than to Bobby. He looked down at his sugarless coffee, and took a sip, filled with self satisfaction. Then, his eyes fell on the old Lincoln Continental, and Dean could practically hear it roaring to life.  
Dean smiled to himself, “I'm a professional.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fallow my instagram if you liked this @cordaroy.k where I do nothing but shitpost.


End file.
